YOSUKE SHIN
After my brother's head had completely vanished into ash, I slowly raised my hand. With a whisper of wind, I scattered what remained of his body—shards of ice splintered apart, bursting into fragments until only a glittering frost remained on the ground.
Some of the shards were stained red—my brother's blood, my blood.
At first, I felt… relief. Victory. Freedom. But as I turned toward the village, a crushing pressure erupted from inside me.
It was as if my own body was tearing itself apart from within, my organs pressed to the point of dissolving. My knees buckled. I coughed, and hot blood spilled from my mouth and nose.
I collapsed, face damp with sweat—or was it more blood? I couldn't tell. All I knew was the floor was cold beneath me, and I couldn't rise.
My hearing dulled. My vision blurred. My strength drained away. Yet my heartbeat stayed steady, pulsing like a drum in the silence. Relief flickered through me. I wasn't dying.
Why then? Why this collapse?
My mind raced—was it the backlash of my new powers? Had I pushed my abilities too far? Or… was it something else?
And then it struck me.
Years ago, I had pursued the path to the third stage of the Light Core. The requirements had eluded me, but now… I had met them. My body trembled not from weakness but from awakening.
A smile spread across my lips despite the blood. At last.
But reality pulled me back as footsteps thundered around me—not one or two, but an entire crowd. The villagers. Their voices blurred into noise, their shapes into shadows. My body wanted to collapse, my eyelids heavy, yet deep inside, my Light Core burned, working furiously, absorbing the atmosphere's energy to heal me.
I let go, surrendering to unconsciousness, trusting my awakening would carry me forward.
TARO KOI
We all collapsed at once. The pressure that had fallen on us was unbearable, like the weight of a god descending. It crushed us into the earth until our very bones screamed.
I fought to stay awake, crawling toward Yuri and Jiro, but even lifting a hand was agony. Finally, after endless seconds, the suffocating pressure vanished.
My lungs filled with air again. I staggered to my feet, barely holding balance, and rushed to check them.
Thankfully, they were alive—shaken, but alive.
"We'll stay here tonight," I said, forcing calm into my voice though my chest still ached from the pressure.
We rolled out our sleeping bags, but before any of us could rest, Jiro's voice cut through the silence. "What is that?"
He pointed to the sky.
A star? No… not quite. It descended not with the pull of gravity but with a slow, deliberate drift, glowing faintly against the night. Its path was set—straight toward us.
We watched in silence as it neared, closer and closer, until finally it hovered right before us.
"What… is this thing?" Yuri and Jiro asked together.
I stepped forward, cautious but curious. "I don't know," I admitted. "But let's find out."
It was the size of a bowling ball, wrapped in a pulsing purple aura. Symbols glowed across its surface. I placed my hands on either side and lifted. To my surprise, it was almost weightless—heavier than a feather, but not by much.
The glow pulsed, alive. The script etched into it shimmered faintly.
"What does it say?" I muttered, turning it so they could see. The markings were in Japanese.
"Let me look," Jiro said, squinting at the glyphs. His expression tightened.
"These symbols…" he whispered. "They call this… a Godglyph."